Broken
by seward907
Summary: The Doctor is broken and needs some healing. Set after the Time War, and follows the series, but not just a rewrite.
1. Chapter 1

He comes out of his regeneration with a cry of pain.

He falls to his knees on the floor of the TARDIS and brings his hands to his eyes, feeling already the first tears of this new body.

_All those people. My people._ He thinks.

He cannot form any coherent thought except for _I killed them all_ which plays in his head on repeat.

He crawls to the console and sits up against it. He feels the TARDIS in the back of his mind, offering him pity, but he shuts her out. He shuts it all out. He forces the TARDIS out of his mind because he doesn't deserve pity. He deserves blame. He deserves death.

He thinks about it. He gets up and paces the floor, taking off the scarf and the long leather jacket. He wants no more of that man who had killed them all. He opens the TARDIS door and looks out into space, out into a universe with no more Galifrey. With no more _home._

There is not one single Time Lord left except for him. He knows it, and he feels it. He feels so empty and it hurts_._ Millions extinguished by his own hand. How could he have done that, he thinks, how could the universe allow him to have done that?

He wants to go back, but he knows he can't.

He could take one step, he thinks. One step and he would be gone and it would end, this terrible burning guilt would end. He could fall with his people and die and be with them at last. No more Galifrey, and then no more Time Lords.

He thinks about it but can't, because he is the only one left. And he doesn't deserve death. Death would be kind and he doesn't deserve kindness.

He turns around and the TARDIS shuts the doors for him as he walks around the console. He shouts and screams and no one is left to hear him. No one but The TARDIS who has been shut out.

His hands reach up to pull his hair, only to find that his hair is too short. Instead, he uses his hands to bang on the walls and throw things to the floor. Soon his console is a mess and somewhere in that empty mind of his he remembers that the TARDIS doesn't deserve his wrath so he finds his room and continues his tirade there.

He rages until he can't anymore and he's left sitting on the floor, feeling empty.

He's stuck, and he has no one. And it is all his fault.

When the TARDIS finally gives up on trying to reach him through their telepathic link, the Doctor is sitting in his room. He stares out into empty space. Around him is smashed glass from the lamp. His clothes are strewn about the room in a haphazard manner and much can be said the same for the rest of his belongings. Bits of this and that he had collected during his travels were now laying across the room in no particular pattern. But he couldn't bring himself to care.

He brings an old vintage bottle of human brandy he had found, to his lips and grimaces at the taste. He doesn't know why he bothers because he can't get drunk on the stuff anyway but he doesn't know what else to do. He can't think of a single thing that he should be doing, or if he should ever do anything ever again.

He remembers bitterly that he had always been able to save the humans. He had always managed a victory over the universe's greatest foes, the Daleks and even the Cybermen. Sure this wasn't his first defeat but he had never failed so miserably before. Now an entire race has disappeared from the universe. And not just any old species, but _his_ species. The people who had a monopoly on time itself. The race that had once been revered as Gods to many other life forms throughout the universe.

Now the only one left to represent that once great nation was him. This daft excuse of a Time Lord whose punishment for destroying an entire species was life.

So he sits on the ground at the foot of his bed. He doesn't know how long he does that for. His mind is lost, caught up in counting the amount of people who must have died, the amount of children. He's torturing himself and he knows it. But who else is going to remember them now?

The TARDIS dims the lights as her Time Lord grieves. She knows that the events of that day would haunt him for the rest of his life, but she also knows that the pain won't last forever. There wasn't much the TARDIS could do however.

So the TARDIS began its repairs in the console room by herself and decides it is time to remodel. The Doctor doesn't need any more death, so she gives the room life in the coral columns that now rise from the floor and curl towards the ceiling. She lessens the bright white light that had previously been illuminating the room to a softer yellow, more gentle.

All the while, the Doctor stays in his room. And for the first time in his life, he isn't feeling that age-old urge to leave and explore, and _live._


	2. Chapter 2

It seems years until the Doctor gets up. He can't seem to shake the emptiness. It's gnawing away at him and he knows that if he doesn't get up now, he might end up rotting away in his room. There's also the fact that his new body is hungry and he supposes that it's no use starving to death after everything. It is after this thought that he decides to get up.

He makes his way slowly to the kitchen and finds that the TARDIS has already placed a modest meal on the table. He sits down and takes a bite of the stew but finds that he doesn't like the taste quite as much as he used to. He ends up taking a single banana and heading back to his room to think.

It takes time but within a couple of weeks, the Doctor is back to moving around the TARDIS, repairing or updating various parts of the ship. The Doctor was never one to sit still for too long and but there was something remarkably different about this Doctor.

He had moved away from the suits and softer material worn by his previous regenerations and donned a black leather jacket. He hadn't even thought about moving the TARDIS from the vortex and went for long periods of time without sleep, even more so than usual. He also didn't talk as much as he used too.

The TARDIS could see this and knew that he needed time. But she was worried. The universe still needed The Doctor and if he kept sitting around and sulking in self-pity he wasn't doing anyone any favors, especially himself.

So that is why, one not so very special day a month or so later when The Doctor had taken a break from tinkering in the console room, the TARDIS seized control of the navigation controls and set them on a path towards Earth, the planet the Doctor had always been so fond of.

The Doctor felt it the moment the ship began to move. He could feel his hearts leap inside and he almost felt a twinge of what he used to feel. The memories of the feelings he used to get before he walked outside onto a whole new planet for the first time ran through his mind. He felt lighter just for a single moment before it was gone.

He moved quickly from the kitchen back to the console room, and examined the problem. This body was quite the mechanic, and secretly he was hoping that this problem might give him something new to work on. He didn't do much else these days.

He sighed when he realized the TARDIS was up to her old tricks. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and waved it over the panel, yet he could feel the TARDIS resisting. He upped the setting just a bit.

He continued to sonic the panel but could tell it wouldn't be of any use. After all, it was the TARDIS that had made this new screw driver for him. "Just let me be!" He yelled out to the room. But the TARDIS didn't listen. Eventually, the sonic failed and he resigned himself to waiting for the TARDIS to land. When she did, he looked at the screen to discover where she had taken him.

Earth. Of course she would bring him here. It was 2005 and they were in good old London, England. Not too bad a year if he remembers correctly.

_No_, he thinks. He has to stop himself. He was always a bit too curious. He didn't want to leave, he told himself. No, he would just go back and grab a banana and do a bit of the old jiggery pokery with the navigation wiring. No more of this random materializing.

He turns around and tries to leave, really. But he can't help looking towards the door that he hadn't opened since…

He feels the TARDIS prodding at his mind, pushing him towards the door. _Sod_ _it_, he thinks before he grabs his jacket on the railing and puts it on. He's going out. He pats his chest pocket to make sure the sonic is there then opens up the door and walks out before he can change his mind.

As soon as the light from the sun hits his face, he closes his eyes and he smiles for the first time in this new body. He can't help it. The sun feels good and he can hear people talking and laughing. He can smell the grass and the trees and the flowers. He finds that the sounds around him make him feel not so alone.

He opens his eyes and sees himself in a park. The TARDIS was parked beside a tree and from his vantage point he could see people walking about or settled on blankets with their families having a picnic. There are humans walking all around. There is so much life that for a moment his guilt, his loss is forgotten.

It is nice to be on Earth again, seeing that ridiculously persistent race of humans. He looks around and decides to take a short stroll. He walks with a lightness in his step and he is already feeling better. Inside, he knows that this isn't deserved. But, he decides, if he can't die then he might as well live.

With this in mind, he takes a turn and heads downtown. The sun is out and people are everywhere. People shopping, rushing to work or simply going on a walk like he was. It was nice. He almost forgot how satisfying it was just to observe.

After walking a few blocks, he sees a young woman up ahead of him sitting on a bench, looking very exhausted. She has a baby who is wailing in her arms, and she's doing all she can to hush it. He can tell that she hasn't had sleep for days and he feels a bit sympathetic.

He stops and sits down by her. "Bit of a crier, he is" he says. He is a bit surprised that his voice has taken on a northern accent, but brushes the thought away.

The woman laughs but it's not because of joy. "A bit?" She says, exasperated. "He hasn't stopped for ages".

He nods. "Do you mind if I touch his head? I'm a doctor, and it usually does the trick."

The woman just leans towards him, probably willing to try anything. He places his hand on the little human's temple and sends a minor telepathic calmness that soon has the baby silent and sucking on his thumb.

The woman looks up down at her baby then back up to him and gives him a relieved grin. "Thank you so much, sir! You have no idea how much I've tried to get him to be quiet".

He smiles back. "You're welcome". It was nice helping people again. The woman gives him one last thankful look before looking at her watch and giving him a quick goodbye before leaving.

The Doctor relaxes against the back of the bench as she walks away. But soon his smile is gone, the initial relief of being outside disappearing. He still feels the oppressive weight of all that happened on his shoulders. He knows that he will never forgive himself for what he did and no matter how many times he stops a child from crying, that will never change, for how could anyone for give that?

He toys with the idea of returning to the TARDIS, and forgetting about this little outing but the door to the store where he was sitting outside, opens and grabs his attention.

Out walks another mother with her son tugging at her skirt, while she is busy taking her phone out of her purse.

"But mum, I promise it moved!" says the little boy to his mother.

She glances down from her phone that she was typing a number into and says "Timmy, the mannequins are just fake. They don't move."

He can feel his interest being tugged at. People always underestimated the children. They never knew how many times that the little buggers were actually right.

"But mum, it turned its head and looked right at me!" The boy continues, fruitlessly.

The mother finishes dialing the number and adjusts her bags to one arm and takes the boy's hand with other. "Timmy, stop being silly." She says, before walking away.

The Doctor stares after them then gets up and turns around to look through the store window. The mannequins stood, still as ever.

He thinks about turning around, but the boy's words and trouble's inane ability to keep finding him urge him to take out his sonic and take a quick scan, which confirms his amounting suspicion. The Autons are here. And it is with a sinking feeling that he realizes that Polymos, the home of the Autons, was one of the planets destroyed in the Time War.

He knows he'll never be able to completely pay for the lives he took, but perhaps he could somehow try by saving others.

He takes a quick look up at the department store called Henrik's, before pocketing his sonic, and walking in.

**A/N: Hey guys, I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I know it's going by quick, but currently I'm just toying with a new writing style. Things get more exciting in the future, so I hope you stick with it :)**


	3. Chapter 3

It's near closing time, from what he can tell. There are barely any customers left, and he can see that the staff was getting antsy to leave. He has been out longer than he had thought.

He takes a cursory glance around the department store before pulling out his screw driver. It was just the typical run of the mill clothing store. Plenty of mannequins for the autons to take. After a scan, he discovers that there is a very high concentration the living plastic, quite possibly stored in the basement.

And by the looks of it, there is too much to be able to simply remove it all. There was also that fact that judging the progression of the animation state they were in, they were about to become fully mobile. This was not a problem that would be taken care of easily.

His mind works quickly and somewhere inside, the Doctor is happy to be back in action.

He fishes in his pockets for something useful. He pulls out a reasonable sized explosive and a matching detonator. Quite a handy thing to have, these endless pockets.

Blowing up the store was not preferable, but it would take care of the problem.

He places the explosive back into his pocket and turns around. A quick trip to the TARDIS would be in order and then he would be back by the time everyone had left. He turns around to leave, almost giddy just to be _doing _something again, but he is stopped by a soft, human wall.

The girl he bumps into makes a startled noise and drops the pile of clothes she was holding to the floor. The Doctor, hardly bothered by the collision asks, "Are you alright?" and bends down to help her with the clothes.

She looks up at him and he can't help but note the deep, rich brown of her eyes, lined by black eyeliner and mascara. For a moment he thinks he sees flecks of gold but when he looks again, it's gone. Human eyes are so similar to Time Lords and for a moment his mind wandered back to his home planet. But he pushes the thought away quickly.

The girl in front of him reaches up to tuck a strand of her bleached blond hair that had been falling around her face behind her ear. "S'okay." She says. Her lips curl into a small smile. "A bit clumsy, I am. Probably not even your fault."

He gives her a smile and soon they finish picking up the clothes and stand. She reaches out for the clothes he is holding and he places them into her hand. He is about to apologize again before making a dash for it, but then his hand touches the soft skin of hers and the world stops.

As soon as it happens he feels like something has slid into place inside of him. He feels something akin to the cloister bell of the TARDIS is going off throughout his mind and he's not quite sure why but something is telling him that this girl is special, and he's meant to be here, with her, at this very moment. He knows this feeling, and he should have seen it coming. This, for some reason, was one of the fixed points.

But something is stranger about this. Usually he keeps those fixed points in time on a list in his brain, to let himself know what not to mess with in his adventures. There weren't too many to remember, especially for him, but he couldn't remember this as being one of those things.

And how does meeting a human London girl in 2005 matter? He's met lots of humans. He can understand why the whole thing in Pompeii was a fixed point. A whole volcano going off was definitely notable, but him meeting a simple human who works a shop, didn't seem… it just wasn't notable.

His mind is working fast, trying to figure it out, but then he's shaken out of his trance when the girl, with the clothes once again in her arms, holds out her hand. "Thanks, it was nice meeting ya." She tells him, with a grin.

He grabs her hand again. _Too fast_, he thinks, and hopes she doesn't notice. He likes the way her hand feels in his. He looks at her, smiling at him, and asks "What's your name?"

She pulls her hand back, and he has to remind himself to let her. "Names Rose." She replies. He wonders if she can feel this too. She doesn't seem to, though. She's just standing there, maybe a little tired from work, talking to him just like he's a customer. She looks just like any normal girl.

He'll have to look into it later, though. He had a building to blow up.

He gives her a nod. "Nice to meet you, Rose. See ya around?" He asks her, placing his hands in his pockets, and plastering a grin onto his face.

She gives him a look he can't quite decipher, and says "Sure". And he'll hold her to that, he thinks. He walks back to the entrance to the store and looks back, to see her walking away, with the pile of clothes in her hands, before he steps forward and out the door.


End file.
